“Yes, Monsieur, I say that the French Government ought to put large public notices on the walls, with these words:  ’Return of Spring.  French citizens, beware of love!’ just as they put:  ‘Beware of paint.’

“However, as the government will not do this, I must supply its place, and I say to you:  ‘Beware of love,’ for it is just going to seize you, and it is my duty to inform you of it, just as in Russia they inform anyone that his nose is frozen.”

I was much astonished at this individual, and assuming a dignified manner, I said: 

“Really, Monsieur, you appear to me to be interfering in a matter which is no business of yours.”

He made an abrupt movement, and replied: 

“Ah!  Monsieur!  Monsieur!  If I see that a man is in danger of being drowned at a dangerous spot, ought I to let him perish?  So just listen to my story, and you will see why I ventured to speak to you like this.

“It was about this time last year that it occurred.  But, first of all, I must tell you that I am a clerk in the Admirality, where our chiefs, the commissioners, take their gold lace and quill-driving officers seriously, and treat us like fore-top men on board a ship.  Well, from my office I could see a small bit of blue sky and the swallows, and I felt inclined to dance among my portfolios.

“My yearning for freedom grew so intense, that, in spite of my repugnance, I went to see my chief, who was a short, bad-tempered man, who was always in a rage.  When I told him that I was not well, he looked at me, and said:  ’I do not believe it, Monsieur, but be off with you!  Do you think that any office can go on, with clerks like you?’ I started at once, and went down the Seine.  It was a day like this, and I took the mouche, to go as far as Saint Cloud.  Ah!  What a good thing it would have been if my chief had refused me permission to leave the office for the day!

“I seemed to myself to expand in the sun.  I loved it all; the steamer, the river, the trees, the houses, my fellow-passengers, everything.  I felt inclined to kiss something, no matter what; it was love, laying its snare.  Presently, at the Trocadero, a girl, with a small parcel in her hand, came on board and sat down opposite to me.  She was certainly pretty; but it is surprising, Monsieur, how much prettier women seem to us when it is fine, at the beginning of the spring.  Then they have an intoxicating charm, something quite peculiar about them.  It is just like drinking wine after the cheese.

“I looked at her, and she also looked at me, but only occasionally, like that girl did at you, just now; but at last, by dint of looking at each other constantly, it seemed to me that we knew each other well enough to enter into conversation, and I spoke to her, and she replied.  She was decidedly pretty and nice, and she intoxicated me, Monsieur!

“She got out at Saint-Cloud, and I followed her.  She went and delivered her parcel, and when she returned, the boat had just started.  I walked by her side, and the warmth of the air made us both sigh.  ’It would be very nice in the woods,’ I said.  ‘Indeed, it would!’ she replied.  ’Shall we go there for a walk, Mademoiselle?’